


the stars and sun shine bright (but you're the brightest)

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Fairy! Jihoon, Fluff, Knight! Woojin, M/M, Magic, Nature Magic, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 12:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: Jihoon speaks in chimes and magic, and he's the most beautiful creature that Park Woojin has ever laid his eyes on.





	the stars and sun shine bright (but you're the brightest)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [leeminhyoongi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leeminhyoongi/pseuds/leeminhyoongi) for helping me look through this ♡

When Woojin wakes up, he’s lying down in a plain of green grass.

The last thing he remembers was getting lost in the dark forest after his horse had stumped over a rock, and ran away before Woojin could call even after him. He felt the stray branches scratch against his cheeks, and how the wound on his cheeks had slowly begun to feel hot as time passed. It became easier to ignore the rumbling of his stomach or the way his throat would feel like sandpaper as time passed and he couldn’t find anything to eat or drink in sight. He remembers stepping over a particularly large, moss-covered tree trunk, and he probably tripped over it and then, there was nothing but pitch black.

The smell of the earth is strangely soothing, and Woojin thinks that he hears the sound of wind chimes (like the ones that his mother sells back at home to make a living) and then there’s a shadow over him. When he looks up, he’s greeted by a figure—shining golden hair that looks almost translucent, bright chocolate brown eyes—and the figure is smiling at him.

It’s a smile that is so inexplicably warm and it vaguely feels like how the wind is at times, cold but comforting—that it reminds him of how it’s like back at home, in the countryside, where there weren’t any tall towers to block the wind. The figure opens his mouth, but what comes out isn’t a language that Woojin is familiar with. Instead, it’s a series of chimes, quite like what he vaguely remembers hearing during the time when he was passed out, and what he just heard moments ago.

When Woojin doesn’t respond, the male in front of him pouts and Woojin watches the way his eyebrows furrow together in frustration. There’s something in the air that Woojin can’t place his finger to, but it feels strong and powerful, like old people who possess the knowledge of both the old and new.

It takes more effort than he would like to admit, to sit up straight from where he was lying down. It’s only now that he realises that he was being covered by a blanket made of petals and leaves and there are glowing white threads that meld everything together in a way that doesn’t look quite, scientifically possible. It’s also now that he is able to take in his surroundings in full—that there are sparkles everywhere, and small creatures that are floating around—and the figure standing in front of him isn’t standing on the grass. Instead, it looks like he’s flitting around, feet not quite touching the ground.

It reminds him of the stories that his mother would tell Yerim before his younger sister went to bed—stories that talked about princesses and knights that would be held together with the forces of _magic_.

Perhaps, he’s still delirious because, _what the fuck_ , magic?

There’s no way magic could exist in this world.

Woojin turns to squint at the figure, the one who looked like he would have the answers to the questions that were beginning to run in his head: _Where am I? Is this magic I’m seeing? What is happening?_

But something tells him that the figure wouldn’t have the answers to his questions, and Woojin thinks that it’s probably right because the figure is floating, hands waving in the air and there are sparkles and bright threads in the air by his side. He just doesn’t seem _human_ . Perhaps, he should give him a name instead of calling him “the figure”, or “the floating person” and he thinks of the sparkly eyes that greeted him when he woke up, and it vaguely reminds him of the characters in Yerim’s stories would wish for better lives and the way he seemed to radiate powerful knowledge, and he settles on a name: _Jihoon_.

 

—

 

It takes him a while to get settled into the whole new environment that he’s in. There should be an atmosphere of fear and anxiety when Woojin thinks about the fact that the forest is not somewhere he has been before; and he remembers old folklore and stories about the terrors of the forests, of darkness and how courageous and adventurous people disappear into the unknown. But there’s something inexplicably warm about this forest. It’s enveloping, and it soothes—and it provides a sense of solace that he never quite felt before when he was back in town.

It’s awkward to talk to Jihoon, who doesn’t speak—at least not in the ways Woojin’s familiar with. They talk in actions and mimes, in sparkles and chimes and somewhere along the way, it seems like Jihoon had begun to recognise “Jihoon” as his name—for he turns around whenever Woojin calls out for him and beams in excitement to hear what Woojin has to say, to hear the stories he has to tell.

Woojin tries to teach Jihoon the ways of the human language, but it is difficult to teach words to a species that’s never meant to comprehend and emulate the language. It’s easy for Woojin to want to give up, but there’s that persistent sparkle that remains in Jihoon’s eyes as he tries to form the words in his throat, to let the consonants roll off his tongue and Woojin can’t help but feel so irrevocably drawn to his childlike curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Jihoon draws the trees and the flowers in sparkles, and Woojin thinks that he gets an idea of what Jihoon is trying to say: that he never quite knew about the world outside of the forest, and Woojin wants to tell him about the outside.

He decides to start with trying to teach Jihoon with his name. The first syllable is hard, and he can’t help but feel the frustration well up within him as he watches Jihoon try, watches the way his chest moves up as he tries to muster the breath to form “o” shape. But the words don’t escape from his mouth the way he pictures it to, and even when Jihoon scratches at the back of his head in frustration, he doesn’t give up and Woojin can’t help but smile at the effort.

 

—

 

Woojin doesn’t actually realise that he hasn’t showered in days, not until he’s picking up some fruits and he notices how the grime and dirt has accumulated onto the once, pristine white cloth of his shirt. It’s one thing to get used to the state of not having showered, but when it becomes obvious to him, it becomes a mark that he can’t quite get rid of.

It’s hard to gesture the act of showering, of bathing. But he does manage to find a lake by himself as he’s gathering fruits to eat for the—and god, he’s really getting tired of eating all the damn fruits. He wanted to make good use of his trusty old sword, to hunt some animals, to get the adrenaline coursing in his veins again, but one look at the wandering pig had Jihoon glaring at him, and Woojin knows better than to make the pretty fairy angry. He’s really craving for some meat now and the lack of good protein is getting to him, and a part of him wonders if Jihoon would be okay if he killed some of the fishes in the water instead.

It’s a quiet moment to be alone in the lake, immersing himself in the cleanliness of the water after Jihoon had nodded at him, gave him the permission to wash himself. He had laid his clothes to dry on one of the branches on the nearby tree. The water wasn’t enough to get all the dirt out of the cotton, but Woojin figures that it’s better than not having done anything at all.

There’s a warm breeze that brushes against Woojin’s cheeks, and when he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he can feel the earth around him: the rustling of the leaves, the chirping of birds faraway, and the fleeting touch of petals landing all over him. He feels like he’s almost melting into the water, but it suddenly feels like a thousand petals are raining over him and it prompts him to open his eyes.

When he opens his eyes, the clear waters are no more and instead, he’s flooded in a flurry of pink flowers. It’s instinctive of him to turn around once, to look at his surroundings but there’s nothing but residual sparkles that he knows of as Jihoon. Woojin did think that he was alone in the waters until the sparkles started to float in the air. He doesn’t want to think too much about it, but he can’t help but let a smile creep up onto his face, at the very imagination that Jihoon had stumbled onto his moment, and had a wild rush of emotions that took control of the earth around him.

 

 

 

When Woojin gets back to the area, which he now deems as his and Jihoon’s resting spot, Jihoon’s playing with the pigs, the sound of chimes ringing loudly in the air. His wings are fluttering softly in the air, and Woojin can see the way they cause the air around to steer and the way his powerful magic slips out in the small waves of sparkles. It’s been a while since he got to know the fairy, and he thinks that he’s started to know him better; and he sees how the tips of Jihoon’s ears are flushed red, and Woojin can’t help but grin.

 

—

 

Hard work never betrays and Woojin can’t help but feel so damn proud when Jihoon does manage to get the first syllables of his name out. He never quite understood why people wanted to teach. It sounded so difficult to get people to know and learn the obvious, but Woojin now understands where these people are coming from. The pride that swells up in his chest from hearing the “oo” come out of Jihoon’s mouth is nothing like what he has ever felt before, and he can’t help but reach out and envelope Jihoon into a hug while shouting, “I’m so proud of you!”

Jihoon’s always so curious, always so inquisitive that he blinks at Woojin’s words, and Woojin is reminded at how Jihoon can’t understand him. His mood almost falls, but Jihoon’s eyes are looking at him like he’s the only person that he sees, and Woojin feels his own heart skip a beat. There are so many beautiful things in this forest: the way the sunlight filters through the foliage, the way the leaves rustle as they get picked up in the breeze and the way all of nature come into perfect harmony. There are just so many priceless views of the forest, and it feels surreal that Jihoon’s looking at him like _that_ , like he’s special—and those beautiful moments don’t matter.

“I’m proud of you,” Woojin says again, and he pats Jihoon’s head. “Say that _again_.”

He knows Jihoon doesn’t understand so he forms the “o” shape with his lips again, and Jihoon gives him a triumphant smile, chiming when he knows that it’s something that he can do.

“Oo!” Jihoon says brightly and Woojin thinks that the sun and stars shine bright, but _fuck_ , Jihoon shines brightest among them all.

He can’t stop smiling now, and Jihoon can’t stop beaming back at him too. It just makes him so fucking happy, and Woojin doesn’t know what to do with all the happiness that is swarming inside him.

“Okay, let’s go onto the next one: _gee-in._ But you have to say it quick, so it’s like _jeen._ ”

 

—

 

Woojin only knows of romance from the stories that he reads to Yerim at night: the way the knight comes to save his princess when she’s in distress, the way the knight kisses his princess to speak of absolute adoration and love. It’s always from the perspective of the princess, who describes the beating of hearts, the hitching of breaths, and the way there seems to be _nothing_ wrong with the world whenever her knight is there.

When he meets eyes with Jihoon, he feels the same emotions that course through the hearts and the minds of the princesses in the stories. He forgets about the sword that has laid in abandon on a particular tree of the forest, pushes the thought of Yerim and his mother back into a foreign part of his mind, and also forgets about the weight of the crest on the cloth of his shirt.

There isn’t anything that he needs in this world, not when it’s a world where Jihoon is. He can’t help but feel the hitch in his breath whenever he meets eyes with Jihoon, feel the way his heart beats faster whenever there’s a fleeting moment of touch and also, the way he wants to spend the rest of his waking lifetime together with Jihoon.

They are gazing at the stars, lying down on the plains. It isn’t the first time that Woojin has been stargazing, but he can’t help but marvel at the beauty of the universe—the clarity of the night sky that isn’t quite the same as back home. Perhaps he muses aloud, because it prompts Jihoon to turn over to look at him.

He wants to teach Jihoon of the various constellations, the various stars that are sparkling back at them—but when he looks into Jihoon’s eyes, and he realises that he doesn’t like Orion nor Aquila nor Cassiopeia as much and instead, his favourite constellations are the ones hidden in Jihoon’s eyes.

Whenever he’s with Jihoon, he feels his heart move faster than his brain. He’s not quite sure if it’s a good or a bad thing, because he’s pulling the fairy into his arms, holding him close—and a part of him wonders how his heartbeat sounds like to Jihoon. Jihoon is almost weightless in his arms, and he can feel the way his wings are flitting softly against his arm. It isn’t an uncomfortable sensation. It’s tingly, but it’s lovely because it reminds him that Jihoon’s right there, right _here_ in his arms.

“I love you,” Woojin whispers. Jihoon turns to look at him, and those eyes are sparkling at him again. He knows that Jihoon doesn’t comprehend the human language like he does, but actions are something that is universal so he does the _only_ thing that his heart (and mind) tells him to do, and he presses a soft kiss against Jihoon’s lips.

Jihoon doesn’t move, and Woojin doesn’t expect him to. Jihoon doesn’t open his mouth to deepen the kiss, but there’s something about the kiss that makes warmth flower within Woojin. The kiss is still sweet and soft, and the lack of reaction is the very evidence that Woojin’s kissing Jihoon. Jihoon, who isn’t human, who doesn’t know the way humanity works, who doesn’t know the meaning of kisses—but also, the fairy that Woojin is so inexplicably in love with.

 

—

 

Woojin doesn’t expect anything to change with their relationship, not when Jihoon isn’t human. He knows that _they_ aren’t something that could possibly work out, and it’s best to go back to their old rhythm of friendship and teaching, of sparkly eyes when Woojin tells him stories of the castle and knights. It’s easy to back to their routine when Woojin pushes the thoughts of his love into the deepest parts of his mind, and Jihoon is the same. Jihoon doesn’t change, Woojin is the one who changes.

Teasing Jihoon is one of his favourite things to do, because he relishes in his every action. Jihoon is pure and untainted, and every one of his reactions is genuine and innocent—and it’s something that Woojin never knew was something that most people back home lack, not until he met Jihoon. Jihoon pouts when Woojin laughs at how he jumps back when a bird perches on top of his head and he would wave his arms at Woojin’s laughter and Woojin would apologise in between his laughs as Jihoon crosses his arms.

It’s strange how they are so in tune with one another, even though there is no need for words between them and they are fundamentally two very different types of creatures. Woojin thinks of the varying folklore of fate: of red threads and strings, of three old women who orchestrate—and a part of him is led to believe that they are soul mates. There’s no other explanation of how they can be so in tune with each other, but it’s so bitterly cruel how they are still _different_ but _same._

He’s absorbed in his own thoughts, and he doesn’t realise the exact moment when there’s smoke rising from the outer parts of the forest—and then Jihoon is chiming loudly and messily. It isn’t the chimes that Woojin’s familiar with—the soft and melodious ones, but it’s loud and painful and Woojin can hear the pain in them. When he looks at Jihoon, he recognises the smell of fire and smoke that’s coming from Jihoon’s burning wings. His eyes widen at how the tips of Jihoon’s wings are stinging, the smoke is emanating from his skin—and when he looks at the top of the trees, he sees that the forest is burning—and _why the fuck is it burning?_

“Jihoon, _Jihoon,_ are you okay?” He tries to reach out to Jihoon, but he can’t help but flinch when his hand touches Jihoon’s arms, and _fuck_ , it’s burning hot and Woojin feels that he’d get burnt if he continued to touch.

Jihoon shakes his head, and when Woojin meets his eyes, he sees the tears that are welling up and Woojin’s heart feels like it’s being stabbed into a million bits. He’s so fucking powerless. If only there is anything that he could do instead of standing here like a damn fool while watching Jihoon burn. He closes his eyes for a moment—he needs to calm down; and he can hear the distant sounds of people shouting, and he knows that it’s definitely the work of humans who are doing this to the forest and Woojin knows that he’s the _only_ person who can do anything about it.

Jihoon is powerful, and it’s something that the both of them know. Jihoon is the forest, and the forest is Jihoon—and it explains why Jihoon is just so fucking powerful, and how he’s like everything beautiful that the forest is. Woojin swallows the lump in his throat, and he notions Jihoon over to the forest. He knows what he has to do, and Jihoon needs to do what Woojin can’t do.

“Jihoon,” Woojin braces himself and he manages to place his palms onto Jihoon’s shoulder. It stings, but he _wants_ to do it, wants Jihoon to know that he’s here to help, that he’s here for him. The Jihoon that he knew would have pouted at how Woojin’s talking, at how he wants to master the human language so that he’d know everything Woojin is saying, but the Jihoon here is crying, isn’t reacting in the way Woojin is used to and it kills Woojin inside. “I’ll do something about the idiots outside, but you have, you _have to_ stop the burning.”

He nods over to the direction of the lake, and Jihoon nods in between his sniffles. Woojin can see the glint of his sword from the corner of his eye, and he feels the adrenaline rush back into his veins. He wished for it, missed it so badly but he wouldn’t want it anymore, if it meant that Jihoon was going to be hurt.

Woojin takes another deep breath, and he presses a soft kiss to Jihoon’s lips, “I trust you.”

He turns back to grab his sword, to run out of the forest to kill those _fucking idiots_ and he doesn’t look back.

 

—

 

Woojin’s instincts are right when he leaves the forest and he’s greeted with a group of young children who are around a huge tree, where the fire is strongest. The children look like they are on the verge of tears, and he can hear how they are panicking: “What are we going to do?” “The plants are on _fire!_ ”

He loosens the grip that he had on his sword, after seeing that the children had probably started a fire by accident and didn’t know how to control, how to put a stop to the fire. He’s about to approach them, but he falters. There’s a sudden fear that overwhelms him, that he stops the words from rolling off his tongue. Woojin hadn’t realised when was the last time he had a conversation with another human, not when all he has been doing for the past few weeks (maybe, even months) was talk to Jihoon, to someone who can’t respond to him.

But he sees the way the children are sobbing, crying out loud and the way the smell of smoke wafts into his nose, and Woojin knows that he has to step over the gaping hole of his fears and anxiousness. He’s the only one who can do anything about the problem right now. Memories of the flourishing leaves and flowers, Jihoon’s smile and sparkles find their way into his head and he takes a deep breath, and hopes that it’ll give him the surge of courage that he doesn’t have.

“Kids,” Woojin coughs from behind them to get their attention, to get them to turn back. “You don’t have to worry about the fire, I’ll do something about it.”

The children stare at him for a moment, and it makes him wonder if part of Jihoon’s magic had been absorbed by him and he has become some sort of alien or something. Kids are terrifying, and they are even more terrifying when their big, round eyes are staring straight at you. But their sniffles come to a pause, and Woojin lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re a knight!” One of the girls exclaim, pointing to the crest on the breast of his shirt. Woojin didn’t actually realise that he was wearing _that_ shirt, and suddenly, he feels the weight of the kingdom fall onto his shoulders. The girl then turns to pat the shoulders of her friends and perhaps, it’s more assuring for the rest of the children because she says, “We’re going to be alright now” and it stops the rest of them from crying anymore.

“That’s right,” Woojin smiles and he reaches out to give them pats on their head. “I’ll do something about the fire, so don’t worry about it, and head back home before your parents get worried, okay?”

“Alright, sir!” They beam at him, now that the big problem is out of their way and it’s placed in Woojin’s hands instead. They salute him, and Woojin feels his heart bursting at their innocence. “We’re counting on you, Mr. Knight!”

He gives them another practiced salute, and when they are out of side, he heads back to where he came from. He sees how the smoke had started to reside, and he needs to—he needs to be by where Jihoon is.

 

—

 

Jihoon’s lying in the middle of the lake when Woojin gets back. He isn’t drowning, he’s floating on top of the lake—and it’s probably the way the forest is connected to Jihoon, that it would never let its lifeline drown to death. Jihoon’s wings are still stinged at the ends, and Woojin feels his heart, his happiness from before, crumble at the reminder of the events before.

He manages to waddle through the water, to pick up Jihoon in his arms and to bring him back to their _resting spot_. Jihoon still feels hot at the touch, but he’s cooling down but it doesn’t look like he’d be regaining consciousness any time soon. When Woojin lays Jihoon on the ground, he feels the shade grow as the branches of the trees are curling outwards, as if it wants to provide Jihoon with a tad more shade against the burning hot sun and the animals are surrounding them.

Woojin can’t help but feel himself choking up at the sight, at how everything in the forest comes together for Jihoon because Jihoon is the very thing that ties them all together; and it’s like the forest knows that Jihoon is in pain and is doing anything that it can do to sooth the burning aches.

He can’t help but curse at his powerlessness, at how he can’t seem to do anything to help Jihoon. It feels like all he has ever done for Jihoon is to create trouble; from the first day that he came to the forest, to how Jihoon has to learn human language to understand him. It’s always Jihoon who’s the one who’s taking the initiative, and not Woojin—and Woojin thinks that there’s nothing that he could ever do to repay him except to give him his heart, his love that Jihoon could never embrace.

 

—

 

It’s been two sunrises and three sunsets, and Jihoon hasn’t woken up.

Woojin finds himself pacing up and down the ground more often. By now, the animals of the forest have probably begun to recognise his worries, from the way the pigs and chicks have started to curl up by him. He feels and recognises their warmth, their concern but it doesn’t help that Jihoon’s hasn’t moved from where he laid him down at three nights before; and Woojin can’t stop the bad thoughts from creeping up into his mind: _what if Jihoon doesn’t wake up? No, no, no,_ he can’t think like that. He can’t have thoughts like that.

So he stands up, and he tries to sweep the thoughts out of his head. He knows that Jihoon would never understand the gesture, but he tears away at the edge of his shirt—the only source of cotton cloth that he has—and he walks to the lake, presses the entirety of the cloth into the water and wringes it slightly so that the cloth isn’t soaking wet. It’s such a _human_ thing to do—Jihoon probably wouldn’t even know what he’s doing—but it also feels like it’s the only thing that he can do.

When he turns back, he sees how the pigs have followed after him and he can’t help but feel a lump grow inside his throat. He hates it feels like the pigs are worrying about him, how he actually wanted to eat them for meat—but he hates how he feels so fucking _alone_ without Jihoon. He didn’t actually realise how lonely he was without Jihoon by his side, and he can’t help but wonder—how did Jihoon feel before he met him?

He must have felt lonely. He might have had the companionship of the animals, of the plants, of the water and nature—but it isn’t the same.

Woojin feels the tears fall from his eyes, and when he presses his fingers to wipe at his eyes, he feels the noses of the pigs pressing into his legs, as if telling him: _don’t cry. It’ll be okay_.

 

—

 

It’s been three sunrises and four sunsets this time, and Jihoon still hasn’t woken up.

The night skies are lonely without Jihoon by his side to watch the flickering of the stars, to point out the various constellations in the sky. He’s still sitting by Jihoon’s side, changing the makeshift wet towel whenever it gets a tad dry, but he finds his thoughts drifting away more often than he would want it to.

Woojin thinks of the fire, of the accident that causes this, but it also reminds him of the children and the weight of the crest that’s on his chest. He hadn’t realised how much time he had actually spent in the forest, but he’s scared at the thought of his family thinking that he’s dead, thinking that he had passed on after going for a hunt outside of town. A part of him misses his family, misses his mom and Yerim—but there’s also a part of him that can’t bring himself to leave Jihoon, not when he’s still sleeping right there, right next to him.

Life is made up of decisions, and this is probably the worst dilemma that he ever had to make. He doesn’t want to make up his mind. He wants to stay here forever with Jihoon, to stare into those pretty eyes, and press his mouth to those sweet, cherry lips, but his heart aches when he thinks of his family, the people who have been with him for so long. He wants them both, but he _can’t_ have them both—and he knows that he has to do something as the thoughts will taunt him forever until he makes up his mind.

It’s tempting, to sweep the thoughts of his family away to the deepest parts of his heart. But it feels like guilty ignorance to spend the rest of his days in the forest, in the secluded part of the world. His thoughts are interrupted as he feels the wind pick up, the air around him stir and the sparkles are gathering in the air—and when he turns to his side, Jihoon’s smiling at him, looking as good as brand new.

There are so many thoughts and emotions that are swarming through Woojin’s mind, at the sight of Jihoon smiling at him—and he doesn’t actually know what to do, and then his body is moving faster than his thoughts and he’s pulling Jihoon into an embrace. His hands are running through Jihoon’s hair, petting and stroking and he thinks he’s in a big, fucking mess from the snot that’s dripping out of his nose, from the tears that are running down his eyes, but he’s so fucking relieved, so fucking glad that Jihoon’s alright, “Fuck, good _god_ —y-you’re alright.”

 

—

 

Woojin forgets about his dilemma.

It’s easy to be swept into Jihoon’s pace, when Jihoon’s all sunshines and rainbows and melodious chimes. It hasn’t stopped raining flowers for the past few days, and Woojin knows that it’s the forest’s own way of sharing its happiness at Jihoon’s recovery. Jihoon’s brighter than before, and the childlike enthusiasm that he has towards learning feels like it’s been ramped up by a thousand notches, and Woojin feels himself being swayed into the sheer happiness of the moment.

They are staring at the night sky again, and Woojin’s pointing out the constellations to Jihoon. Their hands are linked together and Woojin points out to one of the constellations, “That’s Bootes.”

And then, he’s staring at Jihoon and god, he’s just so damn radiant that Woojin can’t believe that he actually exists. Perhaps, his gaze is getting a tad too intense, because Jihoon turns to look at him and there’s a flush of red on his face when their eyes meet. It makes Woojin think that Jihoon’s embarrassed and shy at the intensity of his gaze as he looks down, looks away like he’s trying to avoid Woojin’s gaze—and Woojin is always tempted by Jihoon and he presses his lips against Jihoon’s.

He almost thinks that it’s going to be like the first step, where Woojin simply kisses Jihoon and Jihoon does nothing, doesn’t move. But Jihoon’s shyly and softly returning his kiss, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and Woojin can’t help but feel so damn confused, because kissing is _human_ so how does Jihoon know what to do?

Jihoon tastes as sweet as he remembers, and he realises that he doesn’t actually need the answers to the questions that he has because love is all about the moment, of listening to what the heart wants and yearns for.

They pull apart when there’s a loud crackle in the air, and there are bright lights that shine in the faraway night sky. Fireworks. It’s fireworks. It has been ages since Woojin last saw fireworks because there are only two times a year that there are fireworks: during the King’s birthday and during the start of the New Year.

“ _Oo_!” Jihoon beams, and then there’s a series of chimes as his eyes widen to take in the sight in front of him. He’s fucking beautiful, even more beautiful than the fireworks that Woojin had always loved. But he can’t concentrate on watching Jihoon, because the sounds of the crackles causes the fear take charge of his heart as the dilemma that was splitting him apart jerks him back into reality.

Jihoon turns to look at him, but when Woojin doesn’t look up from the ground, Jihoon’s face falls. It’s like Jihoon knows what Woojin is thinking about, had anticipated this moment because he takes Woojin’s face into his warm hands, and he chimes, as if telling him, _it’s okay. I know._

Woojin shakes his head. _I love you, so I don’t want to go._

Jihoon shakes his head too. _I love you too, so I’ll let you go._

 

—

 

Woojin falls asleep even though he tries to watch Jihoon the whole time. When he wakes up, Jihoon is already awake—and he wonders, does Jihoon actually sleep if he’s a fairy? He never had the chance to find out, because he always falls asleep to Jihoon’s smile and wakes up to Jihoon’s chimes. And he’d never ever find out again, because he knows the forest is _magic_ and something within tells him that he’d never be able to come back to the forest when he leaves.

Their hands are linked together, and Jihoon’s grip is tight. He chimes, and smiles at Woojin and it tells Woojin to go. But his hands tell him a different story. And Woojin trusts actions. But he sees the way his belongings have been put at the entrance of the forest—the same spot where he left the forest to find the source of the fire—and it suddenly feels dark and daunting, that he doesn’t ever want to head out.

"Uu-Woo- _Woojin_ ," Jihoon smiles at him with the force of a thousand suns and Woojin thinks that the tears are welling up in his eyes, overwhelmed by the single phrase. He hears the hoarseness of his voice, and the wind tells him that Jihoon never sleeps and the strength in Jihoon’s voice tells Woojin that he must have spent the entire night, the entire time practicing the syllables. There's so much effort that went into it, and Woojin remembers each and every attempt—that Jihoon standing in front of him, and calling out his name just feels so surreal. It isn't even the first time that someone is calling out for him, but it's Jihoon. Jihoon, who speaks in chimes and magic, who learnt how to speak for him, and Woojin can't stop the tears from falling.

It's also when his tears fall that Jihoon flutters around him in shock. Woojin's looking at the ground, fiercely wiping away at his eyes and he hears the whimpers coming from Jihoon. _God._ He doesn't want this to happen. He doesn't want to _leave_ him.

The tree branches have parted, and the leaves are falling—creating the trail that would lead Woojin to wherever he needs to be. But he's still holding onto Jihoon's hand, and he doesn't want to let go.

Jihoon gives a particularly hard tug on his hand and it forces Woojin to turn around. When he does, he sees the green leaves and pink flower petals swirling in the air, wrapping around them like a bubble and Jihoon has his hands on his face, cupping it with all the gentleness of the world.

Perhaps, he has spent so much time in the forest that he's beginning to be able to sense magic better because the magic in the air, from the leaves and the petals and from Jihoon _is_ strong—and he doesn't quite expect Jihoon to inch closer and press a kiss to his lips.

It's soft and sweet, and it causes a tingle to ripple through his being. He senses the wind by him grow stronger, and it's hard to describe the feeling—but it suddenly feels like magic is coursing through his body, and he feels nothing but happiness and all his worries fade into nothingness. He feels like he's just received the blessings of the forest, and he's probably right from the way Jihoon pulls away, gives him a small smile and the leaves and petals fall to the ground.

Woojin doesn't quite know what possesses him. Perhaps, the blessing gave him a surge of courage that he never possessed, and he pulls Jihoon into a tight hug and he whispers, "I love you. And I’ll never love anyone else like how I love you.”

Jihoon chimes, and he feels the fairy’s arms around his shoulders. _I love you too._

When Woojin pulls back from the hug, Jihoon pushes lightly at him to turn him around, to push him to the direction of the entrance. Jihoon’s touches had always been fleeting and light, but the touches now, are heavy and strong—and he can’t help but keep looking back at Jihoon who simply continues to chime and smile brightly at him.

A part of Woojin feels bitter and upset at how Jihoon is _always_ smiling, always bright in front of him even though Woojin thinks that he can see the way the walls of loneliness are being built up in front of him with every step that Woojin takes. He stops in his steps, and he can’t help but run back to Jihoon, to envelop him in another hug and Woojin presses a kiss to Jihoon’s temple. “I’ll really miss you.”

They stay in the moment for several more heartbeats, and when Woojin pulls away, he sees the glittering tear tracks that have formed on Jihoon’s cheeks. Woojin feels his heart ache, and he brings his hands to wipe at the wet tears, and he kisses both of his cheeks and then, his lips for the _final_ time.

“I really love you.”

Jihoon chimes and nods, and he pushes at Woojin’s back again. _Move, Woojin. You have to leave. You have to go._

Woojin bites at his lower lip as he closes his eyes—thinks of Jihoon’s sparkling eyes, the slope of his noise, the redness of his lips—and he doesn’t look back.

 

—

 

(When Woojin wakes up in the comfort of his bedroom—the feeling of soft, cotton sheets like no other—he wakes up with a jerk. He feels a sensation of something _wet_ on his cheeks, and when he raises his hand to touch at it, he knows that it’s the familiar residue of tears.

He swallows a lump in his throat that he never knew he was holding, and he remembers what he was dreaming of. He always remembers, remembers the sparkles and magic that was so strong in the end, the night sky under the forest, the petals and green leaves swirling in the air—and everything reminds him of the magic that was Jihoon.

There’s a clench in his heart. It’s something that he would occasionally feel after he came back from the forest, and he can’t help but let the tears fall again. All Woojin wants is to be able to see Jihoon again, to be by his side again. _God,_ he misses Jihoon so fucking much.

 

—

 

Back in the forest hidden by the thick threads of magic, Jihoon’s crouching at the ground. He has a stick in his hand, and there’s a pink swirl that trails around the tip of the stick. Jihoon bites at his lower lip, and he continues writing the only two characters of human language that he knows.

He wonders, _does Woojin miss him too?_ )

 

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'm sorry.
> 
> I really love this AU and a part of me doesn't want this ending, but it felt like the ending that was _right_ and fulfilling. Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/99izm) if you want to hate me over this AU, or please also feel free to leave any thoughts that you have on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink). Thank you to daquad™ for always being so supportive, I love you all!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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